


Lilacs

by aasslldd



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Character Death, Dream SMP finale, Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Internal Conflict, M/M, One Shot, dream cares about george, george is fighting with his boyfriend again, got this idea from a tweet lol, how it should've gone down honestly, lots of repetition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:34:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29168163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aasslldd/pseuds/aasslldd
Summary: “Oh my god,” Dream breathes, his eyes widening in shock and his chest tightening with fear. The nether portal swirls and gurgles as people in shining netherite step through. Punz, standing in front of everyone, crosses his arms and stares at Dream with malice.Tommy laughs softly and smiles. “You came!” He pulls Tubbo close by the arm, as if to protect him and project his excitement.Dream turns to Tommy, seeing the optimism on his ecstatic face. His thoughts run wild; anger mixed with oppressive fear, his aura tinged slightly with regret. He clenches his fists and grinds his teeth, laughing because he doesn’t know what else to do.He tenses up his brows as he shifts his gaze back to the soldiers. Punz, still staring daggers at Dream, steps aside to reveal--“George?”orThe season two finale, where George shows up to confront Dream in the disc room.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 155





	Lilacs

**Author's Note:**

> i got this idea from a tweet by @FL0WERF1ELD and i saw a few comments that suggest some others have created a similar story so if this has already been made.. oopsies :D
> 
> anyway here's my idea of how the finale would've gone if george had not fucking slept
> 
> this is shipping inside of the minecraft universe! dream and george have specified they don't mind shipping! if they have any change of mind and decide fics make them uncomfortable this will be taken down!
> 
> cw: blood, death, insanity

“Oh my god,” Dream breathes, his eyes widening in shock and his chest tightening with fear. The nether portal swirls and gurgles as people in shining netherite step through. Punz, standing in front of everyone, crosses his arms and stares at Dream with malice.

Tommy laughs softly and smiles. “You came!” He pulls Tubbo close by the arm, as if to protect him and project his excitement.

Dream turns to Tommy, seeing the optimism on his ecstatic face. His thoughts run wild; anger mixed with oppressive fear, his aura tinged slightly with regret. He clenches his fists and grinds his teeth, laughing because he doesn’t know what else to do. 

He tenses up his brows as he shifts his gaze back to the soldiers. Punz, still staring daggers at Dream, steps aside to reveal--

“George?”

Dream's mind centers on the smaller man, almost entirely ignoring Tommy's shrieks. 

“Tubbo, Tubbo! Get behind, get behind!” Tommy shouts, drawing his defenseless friend away from Dream and behind the sea of purple armor. Niki raises her arm in front of Tubbo, locking in a cold-blooded stare with Dream, wordlessly warning, _‘don't try it’._

Dream rushes towards the crowd, hot anger surging through his body as his pawns are taken from him. “Hey! Hey w-”

“Get away from them.”

Dream freezes, his muscles going rigid. His brain stutters when he hears that smooth accent. He tilts his head a little downward, finding George standing right before him. George’s sword glows with enchantment and his eyes are narrowed, goggles placed gingerly on his forehead.

“Tubbo stay with me, behind everyone else! Behind everyone else!” Tommy calls out to his friend, sounding like white noise to Dream as he continues to stare into clouded brown and blue eyes.

George glowers and averts his gaze, seemingly disgusted with the man. “You fucked up, Dream.”

Dream faintly hears Tommy and Tubbo scrambling to grab the music discs in the back, but he pays no attention, only repeating George's words in his head as his blood runs cold.

“What? George, why are y--”

George interrupts, keeping his eyes trained on the floor. “Don’t.”

Dream gasps softly and his stomach drops, taken aback by the harsh tone of voice. George has only ever used his ‘serious’ voice twice before. The first time had been when Dream had gotten home after a day of mining. George was sitting on their shared bed, staring at his brand new netherite axe Dream had given him.

“Dream,” he said, “who did you take this from?” 

It made Dream stop dead in his tracks, pulling his mask aside to better make out the man sitting firm in front of him.

“Did you kill them, Dream?“ George’s index finger was tracing the sharp edge of the metal, following the shimmering colors. His voice was startlingly calm, but there was a hint of anger and fear hidden beneath his words. 

Dream’s heart sank.

When the older man had turned his different-colored eyes to meet Dream’s, he felt a piercing pain in the center of his chest. His face was stony and Dream could’ve sworn the room temperature had dropped. George was _afraid_.

“How many people have you killed?”

The second time he heard George’s hostile tone was when Sapnap had told George Dream didn’t care about him.

“Just say _you hate me,_ ” he had pleaded, tears welling up in the corner of his eyes. His voice was laced with the same fear, anger, and hurt Dream had heard before, only amplified with pain. Dream had trembled, clenching his fists, hoping the lump in his throat would pass. He never meant to hurt George.

Dream recalled how he brought his hands up to George’s face and cupped his cheeks in the way he knew the latter liked it. He would usually melt into Dream’s touch, cheeks warming and eyes fluttering shut. The younger man knew George felt safe in his hold, breathing in leisurely and always relaxing forthwith. Instead, George had forced himself to shake Dream’s hands away. An innocent tear trickled down his cheek and he ignored Dream’s pitying eyes.

In that moment, Dream’s mind had replayed the times he begged for George to say he loved him, and the first time he had said it. 

"George, just tell me you love me," Dream had teased and cooed, leaning into George's personal space, making him blush.

"Stop," George scoffed lightheartedly like he always does, too flustered to say anything else.

The first time George had said it back and _meant it_ was after the Battle of the Lake. He practically jumped on Dream, throwing his arms around the blond in a tight embrace. George knew that it was just the beginning, and he was _scared_. He wouldn’t let go of Dream, and he didn't mind, of course, he loved the smell of fresh lilacs George always radiated. Hot kisses, wandering hands, sweaty clothes came soon after.

“I love you, Dream,” George had breathed against his lips.

Dream had made love to him for the first time that night.

The contrast between George’s tearful pleads and his own playful nagging pained him tremendously.

Dream remembers it all too clearly.

George’s voice snaps Dream out of his thoughts and back to reality. “I’m tired, Dream. We all are.” Hums of agreement echo throughout the blackstone chamber.

Dream moves his mask to the side of his face and rubs a hand over his eyes, laughing in distress. The crowd looms in front of him, inching closer, forcing Dream to step back. The hallway that he created, filled with attachment and weakness, surrounds him like a dense forest with no way out. He’s cornered.

“George, you can’t be serious,” Dream chuckles weakly. George scowls at the floor.

“How could you do this?” George mutters shakily.

Dream frowns. “I did this for you. For us! So we could live life the way we used to, before all the wars. Before the damage. I- I..”

“Dream, you did this for yourself,” George clenches his hands, his shoulders shaking, “I never wanted this. You’re selfish, Dream.”

Dream scrunches his face in dismay. _He’s selfish?_

“Georgie, I-”

“Don’t call me that,” George yelps, whipping his head up to meet Dream’s eyes again. He’s crying. His shoulders continues to shudder, long stripes of tears staining his cheeks as they run. 

Dream’s heart shatters.

“ _You_ ,” George starts, voice quieter, jabbing a finger into Dream’s chest, “you started this, you continued this, _y_ _ou_ wanted this. No one else did.”

Dream opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

“Everyone here was manipulated, forced to do your bidding ever since Wilbur declared independence.” 

“George, please,” Dream whispers, throat constricting and vision becoming blurry.

“I’ve tried _so hard_ to be by your side through everything,” George was yelling now, tears continuing to flow rapidly, “I wanted to believe who you truly were--a loving, caring person who wouldn’t hurt a fly."

Dream rubs his chest, trying desperately to ease the ache in his heart, and gulps for air. It’s so hard to breathe.

“Who wouldn’t _hurt_ me.”

The chamber sits almost completely silent, now. No words are spoken, no breaths are taken. The only noise comes from the portal, echoing ugly noises throughout every corner. Time seems to have stopped.

Ponk steps forward and swallows. “What is this, Dream?” He sounds hesitant and timid, scanning the dark walls around them. 

Sapnap follows close behind Ponk, maneuvering through the crowd to the fish tank, which holds nothing more than a single entity. _“Beckerson?”_

Sam, on edge, ambles to a lead attached to a fence pole attached to-- _“Fran?”_ He kneels down and clutches the dog to his chest.

Looking at one another, the group follows, searching the hallway for their lost loved ones. The things they care about the most.

“What about me, Dream,” George says coldly, “where’s the thing I care about the most.”

Dream scoffs weakly. “George.” He takes a step forward, opening his arms to pull the smaller man closer.

Before he gets a chance to grasp the man, a sword is poking beneath his chin.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” George threatens, voice cracking between each word. Dream sees George's eyes flash, pain and sorrow etched into his face. Dream knows this hurts George as much as it hurts himself.

“George, please. I- I never wanted to hurt you. I love you, George. Please.” Dream feels a tear fall onto his cheek before he can stop it. His skin feels cold, his stomach like an abyss. 

His heart seems to have vanished.

Dream’s brain stops working; the dam that holds his emotions inside starts to crack. He knows attachment is dangerous. Weak. And yet, George stands in front of him, penetrating his mental defenses.

The sword falls from Dream’s face. “You preach about how attachment is bad and still say you love me?”

Dream widens his eyes in shock, like he’s been slapped in the face. It’s as if George read his mind on the spot. He shudders, words caught in his throat, feeling eyes on him in every direction.

“You don’t love me. You love power,” George snaps.

Dream’s knees give out and meet the floor with a loud thump. Pain from his knees rushes throughout his limbs, seemingly less than the pain in his heart. He places his hands on the ground in front of him to steady himself as the dam breaks. Teardrops fall onto his hands that are clenched painfully, nails leaving crescent marks on his palms.

“I do George, I love you. I love you so much. I- I’m sorry. Please, Georgie.”

George doesn't say anything.

“Dream,” a voice calls, accent not as serene as the previous one, “Dream, you _do_ care about something.”

Dream’s whimpers come to a halt. He lifts his gaze up tiredly from his hands and gasps.

In front of him, Tommy holds the Axe of Peace to George’s neck. George looks down at Dream, then shuts his eyes tight, spilling tears onto his face.

“You love him, don’t you?” Tommy growls.

Dream stares through watery eyes at George. His life. His one and only. _His best friend._ He doesn't answer Tommy.

“You don’t deserve love. You are evil, a heartless psychopath. You deserve to feel the pain you caused others.”

Dream sees red. “Tommy, get your fucking hands off him or I will kill Tubbo.” His breathing is scattered, his words merely mean anything. He doesn’t have the strength to fight everyone away. If he were to kill Tubbo, thirty stacked men and women would take his last life. It's an empty threat, but it's all he's got.

Dream has never seen Tommy so serious before in his life. The young man’s face is red with rage, fire in his eyes. He _could_ do it. Dream knows it.

George looks drained, his eyes are bloodshot and his body is slumped over in Tommy’s hold. His goggles have been shifted to a lopsided position on top of his brunet head. 

George will let Tommy kill him. 

Tommy kneels in front of Dream, retracting the axe from George’s neck and placing it under Dream’s chin, forcing him to meet eye contact.

“You can’t.”

The axe leaves his chin with a scratch and Dream slumps forward. He rises slowly, using every ounce of strength he has left not to fall over. 

Tommy has returned to keeping George at bay. Dream looks around at the faces of his once peers. They look frightened.

“Kill me,” Dream whips his head towards George, slouching in Tommy’s grasp, “do it.”

George’s tone has lost bitterness, now. His words have no bite; he’s nearly over. His monotone words swim through Dream’s mind as he processes.

“No, George. Stop,” Dream pleads, “you can’t--I can’t.”

He feels himself losing his grasp on reality. The faces surrounding him turn into shadows and the surrounding blackstone seems to have darkened. His only concern is with the blond teenager, the one threatening his only love in the world.

George smiles weakly at Dream. “Tommy, kill me, now.”

And he does just that.

The axe swipes across George’s sensitive skin. The skin Dream had marked up so many times. The skin that smells like lilacs and vanilla. The skin that was so soft when Dream carased it, leaving George a blushing, shivering mess underneath him. 

Dream sees the nights he hugged George tightly to his chest, listening to his steady breathing as he sleeps. He sees the days George had run through the secret flower fields Dream took him to. They had laughed about how George couldn’t see the pretty yellow flowers grazing his ankles. They had kissed when the sun started to set, dropping onto the soft dandelions as their kisses turned into more. He remembers the time George came to Dream, crying, after Techno had killed him on his throne. Dream recalls when George had cried again, after being killed in the explosion of L’manburg. He held him tight every time, cupping his cheeks the way he liked it and pressing soft kisses on his wet eyes and cheeks.

He couldn’t hold him anymore. He wouldn’t come crying back to Dream this time.

His body falls to the floor like a puppet cut from its strings. 

His goggles clang and break beside him.

“NO!” Dream cries, hurting his throat in the process. He scrambles to George’s side, tearing the sleeves of his shirt and pressing the fabric to the blood that oozes from his neck.

The world around Dream spins, colors turning black and white, vision centering entirely on the bleeding man in his arms. He doesn’t feel the cold floor beneath him. He doesn’t see the people around him. He doesn’t hear the shrieks that fill the chamber. 

He only feels excruciating pain stabbing away at what's left of his heart. 

Dream has never felt so many terrible emotions take over at once before.

He wishes he could’ve never felt this type of pain.

Dream sobs like he’s never sobbed before. “George, Georgie, please. Look at me!” He presses the fabric harder to George’s wound, knowing it won’t help. George’s eyes quiver, fighting to stay open. He tries to speak, but chokes and grunts. “N-no, stop. Don’t speak, don’t speak, Georgie.”

“I love you,” George chokes, “but you deserve this.”

George grabs the collar of Dream’s shirt and pulls him down for a kiss. Dream tastes blood, salty tears and death. It’s warm and cold--soft and hard. It’s everything George can’t say and Dream understands every unspoken word, melting into the kiss.

Dream sobs impossibly harder.

He cups George's cheeks, the man’s own blood smearing down his face. “Please, don’t go.” Their foreheads are pressed together, breathing in each other’s air.

George smiles and scoffs lightheartedly like he always does.

Dream sees the light leave his soulmate’s eyes.

_GeorgeNotFound was slain by TommyInnit using_ _[Axe of Peace]_

“No, no, no, no.” Dream is shaking with every emotion he didn’t know he had. He drops his hands from George’s face to wrap around his neck, running a hand through the hair on the nape of his neck. He buries his head in the shoulder of his now-dead partner, mumbling incoherently. He smells like lilacs.

Dream can’t comprehend the situation, his mind telling him George will be back, he’s just leaving for a little while. 

It doesn’t feel real.

It’s not real.

 _Please_ let it not be real.

Dream raises his head from George’s shoulder with hardly any stamina left. His face is wet and soaked in blood and tears; his eyes are almost entirely green, pupils only just visible.

He meets Tommy’s frightened stare.

The boy standing in front of him is heaving--head slightly bowed in horror--chest rising and falling rapidly, as if he is unable to grasp what he just did.

Dream hears a bunch of voices buzzing in his head, making him twitch. He smiles sadistically, chuckling a few times because George is dead and there’s nothing left for him.

“Kill me, Tommy,” Dream rasps out. The boy in front of him steps back, shell-shocked. Dream sees no one except Tommy, his entire vision sallow and fixating only on the one who took George’s last breath.

Dream doesn’t know if the room is silent or not, the buzzing growing progressively louder inside of him.

“Tommy, please, fucking kill me,” Dream says with tears running down his face--tears that he doesn't feel. He doesn't feel any emotion anymore, there is no burn, no tickling feeling as it rolls across his cheek.

 _Nothing_.

He just wants it to be over.

“Dream--” Tommy stutters, chin wobbling as he speaks.

“You win. You’re the hero, Tommy,” Dream is numb. “Now do it. Kill me. Everyone wants you too.”

The axe is cold but burning, and Dream can narrowly feel it. He touches the blade where it sits halfway in his chest, not sensing it under his fingertips. He studies at the little sliver of blade his fingers touch and the leather handle sticking out of his body. He sees blood seeping into his green hoodie, staining it an ugly brown.

Dream doesn't care.

His eyes feel heavy and his breathing feels strange, almost like it’s a chore. The faint sting lessens to nothing, and he’s numb once again. Dream lets his eyes finally flutter shut; it feels fantastic. He draws in a breath and smiles--the buzzing is gone. 

Feeling comfortable and satisfied, he lets his body sink against George’s, never once releasing his hold on the man. 

He’s done.

“Hey,” a voice speaks, feeling like mercury running through his veins, sending a shiver down his spine. Dream, startled, opens his eyes to find everything is white. He spins around, trying to find the owner of the voice--the voice thick with an accent. Nothing is visible, only white nothingness that seems to stretch onwards forever.

Dream looks down at his hands, no longer calloused from the sword fights he and Sapnap had to prepare for the wars to come. No longer dirty from the hours it took to gain potions and overpowered out tools. No longer bloody from the…

He can’t remember very well what happened.

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” Dream whips his head up so fast that his vision blurs.

Dream sees him.

George's smile is bright and welcoming. The baby blue knit sweater he's wearing is much too big for him; it covers most his hands, causing the cuff to bunch up around his fingers. A red rectangle is present at the center, depicting the same 404 logo George would always wear. There’s no blood soaking the white collar around his neck. There are no tears streaming down his face. His goggles lay unbroken atop his head, gleaming in the vivid whiteness surrounding them. He looks paler than usual, but also glows in a way.

And for a moment, Dream remembers.

He remembers laying with George, pressed against his chest, legs tangled together, as they rested after a day of mining. He remembers the way George had rambled for hours about his time with Karl and Quackity building El Rapids, a place where he hoped Dream would reside, away from the ‘mess of things’, George had called it. He remembers the bloody kiss that caused him so much agony he was convinced he would never have a heart again.

George reaches out and Dream forgets the heartache.

He forgets.

He steps forward, taking George's warm hand in his. His hand feels different for some reason, but Dream can't seem to care as George wraps him into a tight squeeze. He slowly closes his eyes to become one with the hug, catching a slight glimpse of navy blue and yellow colors that are strangely familiar to him before his eyes shut.

The hug is evocative of something new, an overwhelming feeling of longing and blissfulness Dream doesn’t understand. They fit perfectly, George's arms wrapped around Dream's neck, and Dream's nose snuggled up in George's soft locks.

“I know,” Dream whispers into George’s hair. He can feel the man smile against his cheek.

They break apart, keeping their arms entwined, unable to stop touching each other. Dream notices the way George’s eyes sparkle. He thinks George has never looked more beautiful.

“You think Sapnap is mad at us?” Dream asks, smiling because he can’t help it.

George scoffs lightheartedly like he always does. “Probably.”

George blushes, averting Dream’s intense gaze, biting his bottom lip. Dream can't resist. He grabs George's chin and turns it back his way, kissing him deeply. It feels like he’s high, floating on soft clouds as George kisses back passionately. He loves the way George’s lips fit his. He loves the way George licks softly into his mouth. He loves the way George liquifies in his hands, cupped on either side of his face, the way he knows George likes it. 

He loves it. He loves _him_.

They pull apart finally, panting. George goes back to hugging Dream like before, just as tight. 

“Are you ready to go back?” George mumbles into Dream’s ear.

Dream falters for a moment. “Will I remember?” 

“Do you remember me?” 

“How could I forget?”

George raises his head to meet Dream’s eyes, tilting his head and smiling sweetly.

“Then we can handle it,” George says, “together.”

“Together,” Dream repeats.

Yellow, baby blue and navy suddenly envelop his vision. The navy retreats as the yellow and baby blue surround him, lightly prodding his skin, clearing his head. He's tranquil; he feels it, he hears it, he smells--

\--lilacs.

**Author's Note:**

> there is a lot of repetition because i like how that effected the feelings of dream and george so if u want u can comment the ones u catch :P
> 
> follow my twitter @aassllldd (three L's) if you would like to interact with me <3
> 
> thank you for reading!


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